


Hale's Half Moon Sanctuary

by dearjayycee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Needs a Hug, Derek is a Softie, Derek runs a wolf-hybrid sanctuary, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Interior designer lydia, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Probably more pairings later but the ones up are set in stone, Wolf Derek, Wolf Pack, like she runs the place, lots of dogs, so many
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-16 00:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearjayycee/pseuds/dearjayycee
Summary: Ever since he moved back from New York Derek has run a wolf-hybrid sanctuary all by himself. That is until he has to go to Los Angles to pick but a wolf and leaves the sanctuary in the hands of a spazzy teenager. After that somehow he ends up with a bunch of teenagers in his house and life and he wouldn't have it any other way.





	1. Memories are Killing Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I decided to rewrite this fic, so if you have seen it before (like three years ago) yes this is the same fic. Hopefully, my writing has gotten better over the years and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also if you own a Wolf-Dog (Wolf-Hybrid) I would recommend you didn't read this work.

New York City wasn’t the nicest of places to live if Derek was honest, not at all like the romanticised version in movies. Especially so for a werewolf. There were too many people (all trying to ignore each other while their natural body odors and harsh perfumes mixed until it smelt like screaming). The air thick from pollution, and almost everywhere you looked it was concrete. Not to mention you could never smell the pure scent of things, it was always clouded over by everything else and the pervasive smell of gas and sewage.

But there were upsides to it too. The bagels were excellent; the pizza was outstanding, and you could buy almost anything, even things you never knew you wanted. Though the last one never mattered to Derek, that was more of what Laura loved about the city. They were now owners of two chocolate fountains and a voice-activated grill.

Both Derek and Laura knew the real reason they ended up in “The Big Apple.” Even if Laura would never admit it. It was one of the furthest places away from Beacon Hills they could get within the continental United States. It was also almost the exact opposite of the place where they lost so much. Which was the most significant selling point in Derek’s opinion. It was ever moving, ever changing, new buildings rising and falling like the sun instead of the molasses-like flow of sleepy small towns with the slow rise of trees which could wait for years to reach the sun.

New York City never sleeps.

Laura swore up and down that this was where they would make their new home because she always wanted to live here. And although Derek knew she had always wanted to visit New York, enthralled with the melting pot of cultures and the art scene, he also always knew she would return to Beacon Hills. The pull for family, for wide-open forests and safety, was something no wolf could ignore. Even now. Even if family and security was ripped away from them forever, they still felt the call like a siren’s song.

Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how bad the memories were on any given day, the only place in New York to go for a long run was down crowded streets or in Central Park. Where even the latter was nothing like running through untouched woods where only the smell of vegetation and animal life was found. There was no place in Central Park unexplored, no area untouched, no place unclaimed. It wasn’t the kind of place you could make your own, too many people left their mark on the land to ever come close. And it was too public to let loose, let their wolves run and howl at the moon.

But for now they pushed down all their needs for home and safety. For their own little piece of the world. The memories of better days hurting too much for them to face. Nerves raw and skin tight. They shut themselves away during the full moon, Derek curling up inside his closet, pushing aside unopened moving boxes. Still close enough to hear each other's hearts beating and breathing, along with the occasional tears and muffled whines of longing. It had never been like this. He remembered the late nights of running, leaves crunching underfoot, followed by hot chocolate and cuddling up to his family, worn out and content. But now, when the sun had risen, they gathered themselves up and couldn’t look at each other for the rest of the day. Well, it was more that Derek didn’t dare look at Laura. Couldn’t handle what emotions he might find there. Disappointment? Disgust? Loathing? Luckily, she never forced him to. Small miracles.

Lately, though, Laura had been worrying over something, smelling heavily of nerves whenever they talked. Derek was used to many emotions wafting off his sister, loneliness and longing being the majority, but this was not one he often dealt with. It was wearing him down, all sour body odor tang that tickled the tip of his nose and left his skin feeling threadbare. Their relationship was far from perfect, it never would be again, but it hadn’t been this strained since right after the fire. Derek knew something had gone wrong.

Laura broke the news to him three weeks later, sitting down on their lumpy sofa next to him, far closer than she would typically dare. “Derek, I’m sorry... but we need to go back to Beacon Hills.” She said it with this quiet strength about her that left no room for argument, but that still let him know how much she regretted this. He nodded and hoped she understood he did not hate her, before heading to his room to stare at all he had built, little though it was, in their two-bedroom apartment. Derek didn’t want to talk about it any longer, feeling now as if his skin was being held to the fire his family died in and that the wounds would never heal just go momentarily numb, the acrid smell of smoke and death flooding his lungs.

They both always knew they would have to go back even if they never wanted to or acknowledged it. That their running was only temporary. This decision was out of Laura’s hands. And her worries and sorrow were because Laura hadn’t wanted to put him through the pain of returning. She was so much stronger than him, always had been. Laughing through broken bones where Derek would shut down. Unfortunately, if they didn’t go back, they would lose their family lands. It was a battle that spanned throughout the generations, to keep the Hale woods, woods and not development, because of this their family never ventured. So Derek understood, it was their responsibility now, the Beacon Hills woods was Hale owned, all 6,000 acres, and they needed to keep it that way.

The Hale family had protected the land since before the Hale pack founded the town. A Hale was the first Mayor, Sheriff, doctor, everything. They had always made sure that the land would stay within the family and the state had fought it every step of the way. The alpha at the time had heavily reprimanded Derek’s great-great-great uncle for losing forty acres in a bet. But Hales never went back on their word. Now if they didn’t go back, after five years of living in New York, they would lose their woods.

No matter how much Derek didn’t want to go back, and no matter how much Laura understood and tried to protect him from it, they had to.

They packed up a week later, stuffed all their meager belongings into boxes and rented out a van, leaving behind their chocolate fountain, lumpy sofa, and beds. Laura took the led in the Camaro with all the essentials they needed to make the road trip while Derek drove the van behind her. While Derek missed the supple leather seats of their car which smelt of them, he was glad he didn’t have to either talk to Laura the whole drive or ignore her. They were still within hearing distance, but they both needed this time to be alone. To gather themselves and their thoughts before what was to come.

Heading out of the city in their cars was a nightmare, not that driving anywhere in New York City wasn’t. The traffic had them sitting around in different places for over two hours altogether. They made it closer and closer to the outskirts of the city at a snail's pace, taking the more residential roads to make the drive seem less tedious when they heard it.

A heartbreaking howl reverberating through the air. Laura pulled over immediately, tires screeching in protest, barely fitting in the small space between two muscle cars. Derek drove up a little to find room to park, running back to see her standing in front of a rundown house. It was small, windows boarded up and graffiti on the door. It smelt of gunpowder and cocaine (a scent he only came to recognize by walking down Wall Street during midday, wafting off men in business suits). Derek hated it, the repulsive ether scent that made it feel as if chemicals were peeling away the inside of his nose. With the smell so intense he felt bile rising in his throat.

He swallowed it down harshly to see the creature that stopped their trip so abruptly. Standing alone in the yard was a wolf... no, a dog? Derek wasn’t sure it... was something. It had a heavy chain around its neck keeping it tied in the middle of the yard and forcing its head down from the weight. The grass was missing in a perfect circle from pacing while the rest of the yard was overgrown with weeds almost waist high.

The animal was so skinny you could see the protruding bones through its matted fur. There was no form of shelter, no water except for a bucket just out of reach as if it was a taunt, filled with stagnant rainwater that mosquitoes had already laid their eggs in.

Abandoned. Alone. Hungry. Thirsty. But worst of all, scared.

Before Derek said anything, Laura was hopping the fence, landing on the other side smoothly, making the weeds under her combat boots bend. The dog growled, territorial and frightened, not used to having its home invaded. The growls also sounded painful, low and racking its whole body.

Laura took a few steps forward, and the animal went silent. Derek didn’t have to see her to realize Laura had shifted, eyes glowing and teeth flashing, stance changing as well.

She was being stupid... risky. This wasn’t like Laura.

The wolf (?) rolled over, belly showing, with its tail tucked up against its stomach while it let out a high pitched set of whimpers. He, as Derek could now see, made himself as small as possible while showing Laura that he was no threat, that there was no need for her to hurt him. Recognizing the alpha in her automatically.

Derek still wasn’t sure what the animal was but by the way he was acting Derek would guess it was a wolf. Teeth too long, the body too big, instincts too wild to be a dog. And his eyes…

Laura kneeled over the wolf, growling the whole time (at least she was as cautious as possible) as she broke the chain. The animal automatically jumped up, now unrestrained by the heavy weight, and started to lick her chin, trying to get to her teeth. Tail Wagging. Dog. She picked him up easily under one arm before heading back to the fence, handing him to Derek before climbing back over.

The dog wagged its tail so hard that it almost knocked the wind out of Derek when it hit his back. Derek started to scratch cautiously behind the dog’s ears, fingers almost getting caught in the mats.

Laura took back the animal, setting him up in the front seat of the Camaro with blankets covering the leather. Derek stood next to her at the door, waiting for her to give him some kind of clue as to what in the world she was thinking. She just trespassed and stole someone’s dog. Not even just that but they were on the way out of the city and Derek had no clue where they would take him. They didn’t even know where the nearest no-kill shelter was.

Derek was in shock. Laura, the more collected of them had done something so out of character. She thought things through, planned everything to a T. She wasn’t prone to rash behavior like this.

Derek looked again at the dog who curled up on the seat, already exhausted. He understood how Laura felt about this situation. No creature should have to live the life this dog did, but there were other things they could have done to help this animal.

Derek’s words died on his tongue when he finally looked up at his sister and saw how in love she already was. Eyes sparkling with a soft smile pulling up the edges of her lips, so unlike anything he had seen from her since the fire. Laura finally closed the car door, the dog jolting slightly at the sound. She turned to him and spoke like there was never a question in her mind of what they would do. Derek wished he could have that level of confidence. “We’ll need to get Kosh some food. Maybe stop by a pet shop and get him a bath.”

“Kosh?” Derek questioned.

“I like it. So, that is now his name.” She declared as she patted Derek’s shoulder and then rounded to the driver side of the Camaro.

“What does it mean?” Derek asked dumbly, mind boggled with this whole situation.

Laura shrugged, “No clue. It sounded good in my head. Though if I had to guess it means troublemaker.” She smiled and then jumped back into the car, leaving Derek to stand on the cracked pavement, gaping for a few seconds before he realized no matter what, he would go along with whatever she decided. There was so much he wanted to say though. He would just have to hold it in for later.

Before Derek knew it, they arrived at the nearest pet shop waiting for Kosh (Laura by his side to make sure he behaved) to get washed up and shaved down. Cart in front of him full of all sorts of things that Laura had picked out. Toys out the wazoo, loads of food (which the lady had helped them pick out so it would help fatten up Kosh fast but safely) and a few different bandannas.

Money was no problem for them, even before the fire. So Laura spending all of this money didn’t worry Derek, what concerned him most was how attached his sister already seemed. The way she beamed once the wash finished, Kosh at her heels, shaved tail still whipping about and a red bandanna wrapped around his neck, he realized they were inseparable.

And honestly, Derek didn’t want to stop this. He would do anything to see his sister happy again.

Derek followed in the van, listening to Laura and Kosh “singing” along to the radio, some upbeat pop song playing. The dog howled along with the music with his new alpha. After two hours of listening to them, a few restroom breaks and one food stop later, Derek tilted his head back and let out a long howl. It cracked towards the end, having been so long since he had done that, which might have otherwise embarrassed him but the way Laura laughed at him and playfully howled back left him drunk on the feeling.

It had been so long since he had heard that full belly laughter from her. But now he felt a change on the wind.

  
Derek had just stepped out of a warm but pressure lacking shower, sleep pants on and a towel wrapped around his neck to find Laura sitting at the desk in their hotel room. She was typing furiously on her laptop with Kosh laying under her feet as she rubbed his belly. Laura looked as if she was sending the most important message of her life. Derek wondered what could be so important.

Laura had quit her job at the law firm when they had to move back even though she had been working years towards achieving a partnership. And while Derek knew it had broken her heart, she did it without a single thought and instead of lingering on the loss, had sworn to open the best law firm on the west coast. Derek admired her ambition and drive.

She seemed to notice Derek staring at her and stated without even looking over at him, “Derek, I figured it out!” Laura had said it like he should already know what she would tell him. Derek, however, had no clue.

“Figured out what?” Derek just continued over to his bag, pulling out a tee-shirt and tugging it over his head, it stuck on the way down against his damp skin.

“Why he acts so weird.” Laura pointed down at Kosh. “One minute wild, the next a big puppy.” She rubbed her feet against the animal’s soft belly. “He’s a wolf-hybrid. Part wolf, part dog.” She reached down to pet behind Kosh’s ear, both making big puppy dog eyes at each other.

Derek turned to get a better look at them. All he could see right now was a puppy, but the look in his eyes when they had first found him had been undoubtedly wild, more so than just the feral behavior you would expect from a neglected animal. Derek now confused asked, “Why would anyone do that?”

Laura let out an annoyed little huff as she continued her furious typing. “Apparently, some people want their own little piece of the wild. And breeding dogs with wolves is the only legal way to do that.”

“That sounds extremely stupid.” And dangerous, and irresponsible. Derek didn’t need to say that to get his message across. Wolves were wild animals who were different mentally, physically, and emotionally from the average domesticated dog. Not even feral dogs were as wild as wolves.

Laura sharply nodded, looking at him as if she was trying to figure something out. Derek wasn’t sure what. “When we get back home, I want to open a wolf-hybrid sanctuary,” Laura stated as if it was just a comment on the weather as she turned back to the computer and continued doing whatever it was she was doing. “I already bought the domain name! Hale Half Moon Sanctuary.” She hit the enter key and then stood, grabbing her bag and heading into the restroom.

When the door closed, Derek finally seemed to process what she had just said. Hell, she hadn’t even given him the chance to talk about it with her.

It baffled him, to say the least. There was so much he now wanted to say, needed to know. But he also knew from experience that once Laura set her mind to something, there was no changing it. It had been the same as with law school, she had marched into the living room of their childhood home, pack splayed out across all the furniture and declared, “I am going to be the best lawyer the world has ever seen.” Before marching straight back into her room to study. Kosh walked up to Derek and leaned up against his leg. Derek leaned down to pet the dog, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the reason Laura wanted this so badly was so that they would have a reason to stay in Beacon Hills despite the ghosts that would haunt them.

That was how it happened.

How he had found himself now helping construction workers rebuild their old home. The floor plans far more extensive than they had ever been. Large wrap-around porch, something Laura had always thought was beautiful, with three stories and a basement. She talked about what room would be the gift shop, and which ones would be an auditorium so they could teach young kids. Derek had never seen her so ready to tackle the world. She had thought of everything. Even a giant twelve-foot stonewalls surrounding 410 acres of their property. They would divide it into five different sections with the middle one being around the house and only ten acres. It was more room than Derek would ever know what to do with, but Laura had a plan. Laura always had a plan.

Derek had tried over and over to convince Laura that it might be overkill but she would always cut him off. Would say it was necessary. Say things like, “I want to take care of them, I need to.”

It was odd, how huge it was. How huge Laura wanted it to be. That one of the things she wanted most was an elevator so they could bring Peter home. And for some reason her wish to fill the whole house with life again, now much larger than their childhood home, was so intense that Derek started believing in it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I currently have no beta reader, if anyone is up for it that would be awesome, also if anyone wants to co-write this I would really enjoy that.


	2. Burning Bright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not, mention of panic attacks and canon character deaths.

    One of Derek’s favorite childhood memories was running barefoot through the forest. Laura at his heels, snapping playfully between delighted howls, and Peter at the head of the pack made up of all their siblings and cousins. Rushing for the clearing closest to their house so they could play a proper game of tag, all tackling, tumbling and grappling. 

    The younger members of the pack often did this, venturing out before dinner to play in the woods, to help keep out from underfoot. To stop them from begging for attention while one of their ranks stole food out from under the adult’s noses. And since Peter was the oldest out of them, only being sixteen they always put him in charge of pup sitting. Everyone knew he didn’t honestly mind the job, even if he grumbled about it under his breath, and that he would make an excellent father someday. Peter seemed to have a sixth sense with kids; he always knew just what to do whether it be bruised egos or scraped knees. Uncle Peter was always the first to help. 

    And Peter had been a great father, so proud when Jack was born, all beaming smiles and silent tears. Born human, Jack was the light of Peter’s life. Derek had never seen him so happy. Derek was only ten when a nineteen-year-old Peter brought home the new baby, all squishy and pink, smelling heavily of aunt Amelia, baby powder, and breast milk.

    Aunty Amelia and Uncle Peter had been together since preschool when Peter pushed down a boy that had been pulling her hair and then pushed her on the swings after telling her she was pretty. For Derek, they were always together, and they always would be, so adding a baby to that changed nothing. All it changed was that Peter now had a baby in his arms or in a carrier on his chest most of the time.

    A few months later his own had Cora, the whole house had been buzzing with anticipation, and when she arrived, she was set up in the family nursery in the same cot as Jack. The two had been inseparable after. Holding each other while Cora instinctively scent marked and protected her human pack mate. She had even growled at Uncle Peter when he accidentally made Jack cry. 

    Two years later came Malia. All full head of hair and already showing the faintest hint of the Hale eyebrows. Also human, Cora became her protector too. Trying to camp out in front of the nursery, a pile of spiderman blankets and pillows, right outside of the door. When she would fall asleep someone would take her back inside and tuck her in with Jack while she would just grumpily growl in her sleep before latching onto her cousin and stuffing her face into his neck, almost purring contentedly at her new position. 

    And once Derek was older he considered Peter, for all his flaws (too sly for his own good), to be his best friend. Derek had continued to think of him like that right up to the moment where Derek had to kill him. Derek couldn’t blame Peter for what he had done. The loss of his whole family had driven him mad, Amelia dying in the nursery with her children, the separation from his alpha, and the paralysis of his physical being. Jack and Malia had been his world. He would have survived the loss of his wife, but to lose his children, that had been what had driven him over the edge. 

    Derek could sit and blame Peter all he wanted for killing Laura. But it would be useless. Derek knew all this ultimately happened because of what he had done, whom he had trusted... who he had loved. That was the cause of Peter’s insanity and Laura’s death. Derek had thought he already knew the weight of what he had done, but it wasn’t until Derek was all alone that he finally understood. His family had burned, but at least he still had Laura, still had someone to anchor him to reality. But no longer. 

    Everything had been going great after they returned to Beacon Hills. They had finally rebuilt their home and their lives, Kosh now in tow. They fixed something that had been long broken within themselves. Some pieces missing and other shattered beyond repair, but they had gathered them up as best they could. Stuffed them into a heart-shaped box and functioned as if they were normal again. Going into town for dinner, laughing over the plans for the house. Derek able to look his sister in the eye for the first time in years. 

    One of the first things they had done when they got back, right after checking into their hotel and contacting the sheriff to let him know they were back in town so the state would back off, was to go see Peter. It had been hard to see him again, his broken body as a reminder of all they had lost. They had spent over an hour sitting out in the car, Camaro purring as if to sooth them, trying to prepare themselves, too cowardly at first to head inside. Laura almost seemed more nervous about it than Derek, fingers tapping against the steering wheel with no discernable rhythm. The main feeling running through Derek was an overwhelming sense of guilt. Guilt for leaving his Uncle, for betraying his trust, for killing his family, his alpha, his wife, his children.

    Peter had been sitting in a wheelchair, staring blankly out the window that only looked down at the concrete of the parking lot, trees in the distance, a tease of freedom. It was like seeing an empty shell of the man they both once knew and loved. It was heartbreaking. The burns on his face along with age making him almost unrecognizable. There was nothing left of Peter but his smell, old books and baby powder, overlaid with the scent of burning flesh. Toasted, roasted, charred.

    The smell had Derek running to the en-suite to vomit, Laura following him to rub his back, large circles trying to soothe him. The cold porcelain against his hot skin didn’t help him at all, face tingling, stomach churning, and skin crawling. His breathing was uncontrollable, ragged and wrecked and tears were pouring down his cheeks. 

    Suddenly, he was fourteen again. Running as fast as he could towards their home, the smell of burning flesh and wood filling his nostrils. There were screaming children and adults alike, driving Derek to move faster, muscles tearing and healing from the strain to push harder, to save them. But the closer he got, the softer the screaming became until he was standing in front of his home, set ablaze, with only the sound of crackling wood. 

    He searched between breaths for any sign of heartbeats. 

    There were none.

    Laura was the only thing that stopped him from running in. They both knew it was already too late, but Derek needed to save them. They needed to be alive, or he would burn with them. Laura held him tight, arms like a cage around him, not letting him go even as he dug his claws into her arms, trying to gain leverage to push her away to run. 

    By the time the police and firefighters arrived Derek was curled into Laura’s chest, crying so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, face messy with snot and tears. Laura was shushing him, rubbing circles into his back, trying to anchor him to reality. Derek could barely hear the cops and EMT’s, instinctively retracting his claws, trying to pull them apart but all he could hear was Laura’s soft sobs and the feeling of her tears hitting his neck as they fell. Her own body trembling in time with his.

    “Derek!” Laura was gripping his face, forcing him to look at her. White tiled walls behind her and eleven more years showing on her face than when their life ended. _Right._ _June 3rd, 2013. Beacon Hills, California. Beacon Hills’ House for- Breathe._

    Derek pulled Laura’s hands away from his face, unable to handle the heat of her hands against his clammy skin. “I’m fine,” He lied. 

    Laura looked at him like she wanted to say more but knew better, and Derek was thankful that she always knew what it took to pull his scattered pieces back together long enough to act like a functioning human being until the next time he had a meltdown. What he needed most right now was space and the time to push back the memories enough to keep going. She nodded before heading back into Peter’s room. 

    Derek continued to breathe deep breaths until the room was no longer fuzzy and his heart went steady. 

    He went back out into the main room and sat in the plastic guest chair as Laura talked to Peter for another hour. She was talking about all they had done in New York, at least all the memories that contained even the smallest sliver of happiness, about all they had accomplished. Both running themselves ragged when they first arrived with school. Derek finishing high school in a year and a half before starting college and completing his Associates Degree Architecture right before they left for Beacon Hills. Laura had finished law school in an unbelievable three years and passed the BAR on her first try before being hired by a small but exceptionally well-respected law firm. She worked as a child advocacy lawyer. But then Laura started ranting at Peter’s unmoving body about the sanctuary. About how much she had planned, face lighting up with a small hopeful smile when the elevator came up and that Peter would come home with them once they installed it. 

    Laura hugged their uncle, a single tear running down her face before leaving. They drove back to their hotel in complete silence to find that Kosh had torn apart most of the bedding and was sleeping under the desk in a tangle of sheets. Laura just sighed heavily before calling the front desk. They paid for the damage before being kicked out. 

    After that disaster, they lived in the basement of their house which was the only space that was completed. They continued to visit Peter daily, silently eating lunch after at the diner their family had preferred, the owner Beatrice Boyd pulling them each into a tight embrace when she recognized them. The scent of pack came back, warm and content, the smell lingered on their clothes. It was the happiest month of their lives since the fire. Kosh was flourishing under the attention, food, and space he had never had before. Laura was enjoying planning their new lives, spending as much money as she could, in an attempt to fill the holes in their hearts. Derek was just stuck watching it all happen, swept up in the flow. 

    And even after all they build over the ashes of their old life Derek couldn’t save Laura. He was still too naïve to see that the person standing in front of him, though he might smell like home, wasn’t the uncle he had once known, respected and loved. When Laura and Peter fought Derek didn’t move to help, couldn’t. Derek was too stuck with the silly want to make it stop, to fix Peter, to continue the rebuilding they had started and be a family again.

    He could have been so happy. They could have been so happy.

    Unfortunately, that wasn’t what happened. Though Laura was strong, so very strong, Derek knew that seeing their uncle again, standing, walking, moving, with the light of life back in his eyes, broke her. To have to do this broke her. It was her downfall.

    Peter’s claws ripped through Laura’s throat, blood spurting everywhere, deep red and smelling strong of iron. Her back was against Peter’s body. Derek saw the light leave her eyes and at the moment his body moved on its own. All the things Laura had always wanted were gone now. 

    Before Peter could get his wits about him, rein in his new power, Derek murdered him. Cold blooded and without thought. Anger and sorrow clouding his mind. Derek’s hand pushed through Laura’s chest, ripping out Peter’s heart. Taking both Laura’s and Derek’s with it. 

    Derek stood there clutching them, arm through their chests and blood covering his body, holding his family up like puppets on a string. His family hugging one last time, all together again. Finally. 

    Their father used to get so mad if mud got tracked into their house. Well, not so much upset but more annoyed than anything else. It must have been hard to be a human in a predominantly werewolf household. He was always the one holding down the fort, keeping the house in order while their mom kept the pack together. Their father had been the one to figure out that dropping bubble bath into the hot tub and then throwing all the muddy kids in it was the easiest way to keep the house clean but Peter had always been the one to join them. Splashing each other with the baby bubble bath infused water, jet streams massaging their sore muscles, before jumping into the outdoor shower then heading in and getting dressed in the mudroom. Wolves too comfortable each other to balk at the nudity.

    Derek couldn’t bring himself to wash off the blood yet, after he finally let go of their limp, cold bodies. He laid them down gently in the grass of the clearing they were in. He sat at their side, uncomprehending of how his situation had changed, not grasping the current situation. 

    Derek couldn’t just walk into their, now his, empty home. He couldn’t. Not like this, he couldn’t ruin it, couldn't taint it, couldn’t help his father’s voice in his ear telling him that there was no way muddy paws were coming into his house. Thick arms crossed over his chest with an apron around his waist and spatula in hand.  

    Derek ended up walking to the nearest creek to spend another three hours trying to clean the blood from his body and beneath his nails. 

    It wouldn’t come clean.

    And by the end, he wasn’t sure if it was their blood or his own from scrubbing his hands raw between bouts of healing. Derek finally looked up when he heard loud, desperate howling in the distance to see the sun setting. He let out a sigh that was hiding a sob. Derek needed to go back to the house, a dog was waiting for him. He needed to feed Kosh who got angsty about his food. Derek was sure it was from being starved for so long. 

    Derek wanted nothing more than to leave. To run away and never to come back. To give the stupid land to the government and just be over with it. To stop existing altogether. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do that to the memory of his family, it was all that there was left. He couldn’t do that to Laura’s dreams, to the life she had tried to build.

    Derek had already ruined so much. He couldn’t destroy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long realized that I had to work really hard on a timeline to make one of my plot points work. Also because I did that decided a new plot direction for this fic, I hope you will enjoy it. 
> 
> Also still looking for a beta and maybe a co-writer.


	3. The Dog Days Have Just Begun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of history of the Hale pack along with some more of what happened right after the fire. The edit of this chapter added another 5k to it so I hope you enjoy. Also, enter Stiles.
> 
> #DerekHaleNeedsAHug

   Derek was standing outside, crisp morning air blowing through his hair while wolves swarmed around him, when the phone rang, disturbing the serene mood he was in. He walked back inside since the wolves enjoyed talking back when he spoke and whoever was on the other side of the phone would have a hard time hearing him like that. 

   Derek sighed before hitting the accept call button, he always hated this the most, it never meant good things. They never called him for good reasons. “Hello, this is Hale Half Moon Sanctuary, what can I do for you?” He had said this so many times over the past five years that now he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. It was now the automatic response to picking up any phone, not that he had a phone other than the main landline. 

   The lady on the other side took in a deep breath before she spoke, voiced pitched unnaturally high, coming out tinny, making his sensitive ears ring. She didn’t need to tell him what was going on, Derek already knew what this was. “I have a wolf-dog…” Of course she did. They always did. That was the only reason anyone ever called him. “At first she was the cutest thing ever. But now… she’s a complete terror.” Of course she was. The average person didn’t have the time or space to burn their wolves energy off, leaving them restless and more likely to cause havoc. Derek hated every person who called him. “I was wondering if you had any room to take her in.” 

   “I do,” Derek would always have space, he could never turn down any animal whose family would get rid of them. And, since the Hale family owned the entire preserve, he would never need to worry about room. The only reason most people thought it was a preserve was that his family never claimed it out loud, never felt the need to when they knew the truth when it was in fact not. It was private property. 

   But Derek also wanted anyone to be able to walk through the woods if they wished to. That had always been what his family wanted. To experience the great outdoors leaves crunching underfoot and trees shading the way. Derek loved every inch of the Hale woods, and he knew it was the best part of Beacon Hills. Derek would never allow it to become more housing. Beacon Hills was a small town, and people who lived there liked it that way. However, the state didn’t. It was situated in the perfect location to build up a large city between Sacramento and Medford right off of interstate five with many potential tourist destinations. The forest itself, a large field of hot springs, a sizable lake, and a large abandoned quarry turned lake where the was water so clear you could see the veins of the marble even at the deepest point. The Quarry was on the forty acres that the Hale family had lost in a bet. But once the stone cutters and miners moved on the land was bought back.  

   Not only could the state capitalize on the many potential tourist attractions but Beacon Hills also had an abundance of natural resources. Because they owned the land at the time, it was untouched by the gold rush, which was surprising since the mountains which protected the East side of the town where plentiful with large nuggets of gold. Which the family would gather by hand to make presents for each other or visiting Alphas. While there were large untapped pockets of oil and natural gas, spread throughout the area, smell rising from the dirt above them, luckily their scent was earthy and bearable. There were also large deposits of precious gems including Diamond, Emerald, Garnet, Jade, Opal, and Topaz among others. A large part of Hale tradition was to wander into the mountains and retrieve a gemstone for their betrothed before forging it into bracelets, rings or necklaces with their own hands. Whatever fit their mate and lifestyle the best.

   The first Geologist in the Hale family, interested by the sudden rush or miners during 1848, had hypothesized that the abundance of precious natural resources was due to the magic that over centuries had soaked into the land. Speeding up the growth and development of such things. Coal compressed into diamonds faster, gold and platinum rose from the core at an unheard of speed and trees rose from the mineral-rich soil more swiftly than anywhere else in the world.

   Over the years the government had tried many tactics to take over the land. They tried buying it which had no impact since the family was already wealthy. Next came intimidation, every alpha they tried it on had laughed in their face before sending them running with their metaphorical tail between their legs. Then they tried to creep onto the land, claiming they owned small bits. But the original documentation showing the property borders quickly refuted that. Along with what the paperwork for what the Hales had bought throughout the years. 

   Last, the government put into law that if the owner of large areas of woodlands (just so happening to only affect them) left the land for over five years, the property would be forfeit. His grandfather had laughed so hard that he had pissed himself (their grandmother had claimed) at the thought of there being no Hale to live on the land. If he saw it now, he wouldn’t be laughing. 

   The Hale family protected the land and the land in the only way it could give back. The only reason that any of the area would be developed further would be for expanding the sanctuary or if the pack grew so that they need to build new housing. Laura had created it all to make this new pack, and they would always welcome new members. When his family had been alive, it was the same, abused children, unhappy werewolves, and people running away from something were always welcome into the fold. Before someone chopped the Nematon down (by whom was still a mystery), there was easily over a hundred people in the pack with many more that were pack adjacent. When the Nematon died, so did the call of sanctuary it gave off, and the pack numbers had slowly dwindled until all that was left was the main family. 

   “That’s great! We can bring her to the sanctuary in a few months.” There was something in her tone that sent a muscle twitching on Derek’s forehead. “After she gives birth.” The woman said offhandedly, almost flippantly, she didn’t seem to understand just how horrible what she had just said was. Derek knew where this was going, he would gnaw off his leg if he were incorrect. But he had to hold it together if he didn’t want her to hang up and try somewhere else. Or worse, turn her over to a shelter where she would be put down.

    “Do you know what kind of dog she was impregnated by?” Derek had to keep his rage from bubbling over because he was once again sure what the answer would be. That didn’t mean he didn’t hold out hope. Derek wasn’t sure how long he would continue being optimistic when the answer was never what he wanted. After all this time the naïve fourteen-year-old, pre-fire him still wanted things to go his way, smoothly and without conflict. It always surprised Derek when that part of himself reared its head, shocked to feel it after years of nothing but heartache. But Derek didn’t have the heart to squash it.

   The woman went silent on the other end of the line. Apparently, Derek hadn’t controlled his anger as well as he thought, something had slipped through. Before she let out a soft, timid, “We had her mated with a wolf.”

   Derek wanted to shout, scream, howl until his throat went raw. He couldn’t help the harsh growl his next question came out as. Honestly, he was surprised he wasn’t yelling yet. “Why?”

   The lady huffed as if Derek’s question was a waste of her time, “She was so expensive! So we decided we would sell her puppies to get some money she cost us back.” Derek could cry at the cruelty if he didn't use all his tears up years ago. 

   Uncontrollable hatred was all Derek could feel for this woman. She didn’t even realize what she had put this poor animal through. By deciding to give her away, it would rip her apart from the only pack she knew. It disgusted Derek, felt a little too close to home. He needed to convince the woman to hand over the wolf before she had her pups, the sooner, the better. So he started in on her, his rant over this situation ready, “I will say this; if you can’t handle her now what makes you think you will be able to handle her when she’s protective over her pups? Not to mention how the pups will act themselves. They are born wolves, not dogs, even more so with their father being a wolf, and if you don’t socialize them right and within a short window of time, they will always be wild.”

   The woman was silent, breath short and sharp as if she was trying to hold in her own anger.

   “I will pick her up for free,” Derek hoped she would just accept the offer with no arguments. Derek couldn’t deal with this any longer in his current state of mind. It wouldn’t end pretty.

   He was met with more silence. Then, suddenly, Derek realized that for this woman it was only about the money, not what was best for her animal. To Derek, this was a horrific realization. Couldn’t imagine caring more for money than pack, it went against everything his family raised him to believe in. Now more than ever he had to do everything in his power to get this wolf away from her. “I’ll give you a thousand for her.” Derek could have offered more, but this woman didn’t deserve more. Didn’t even deserve that much, but he knew anything less she would just blow off.  

   “They can go for a thousand a piece…” It came out so quietly that if Derek weren’t a werewolf, he would have missed it like she knew she was already on thin ice. Knew he was moments away from exploding. Despite this, she still was trying to weasel more money out of him even though she was already planning on giving up her pet. Derek hated her increasingly with every word, felt the fire within him being stoked along with the need to pace, he hadn’t felt this way in years. That this woman thought of living beings as only mere money sickened him. 

   “Ma’am you’re not considering vet bills, food cost, damage cost because trust me they will damage your house, advertisement costs… Dog breeding isn’t a prosperous business. And I doubt you will ever get a thousand for any of them.”

* * *

    “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Derek, how are things at the sanctuary going?” Sheriff Stilinski questioned, eyes soft and smile brilliant even at seven in the morning. He was the only person Derek could come to with this dilemma, well the only person in this town he trusted with this. He was the only person he knew who could take control of his wolves enough to not cause a full-on revolt within his pack while Derek wasn’t there to supervise. And the last thing Derek needed was to come back home to see the wolves had decided on a new alpha, or worse, hurt themselves and each other as they desperately tried to find him.

   Many of Derek’s wolves had abandonment issues, not to mention food issues. They all had a rigorous daily schedule that never changed so that they didn’t get anxious about the inconsistency. And this was why Derek needed the Sheriff’s help. The man was always good at keeping schedules and appointments. It was part of being a good sheriff, and if there was one thing John Stilinski was, it was a good sheriff and an even better man.

   “I have a problem,” Derek collapsed into the chair across from the Sheriff, room smelling overwhelmingly of burnt coffee, the faint lavender scent that spoke of lingering tiredness and the sharp spice of unease. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the headache that was simmering right beneath the surface slowly becoming unbearable. The rage Derek felt at that woman along with the smell of strangers and unease wasn’t helping his decision-making skills. He was close to just jumping in his car and speeding the eight hours into Los Angeles with no thought for the wolves at home.  

   “Anything I can do to help, son?” The Sheriff had always been there for him since the fire, and Derek was incredibly thankful for it, more grateful than he could ever express. He never tried to make Derek talk about the past or feelings, but whenever he needed help from the older man he always got it with minimal questioning. The Sheriff also often visited the sanctuary, bringing donuts or lunch with him. Cruiser rumbling down the drive as he hummed to classic rock. He would always hug Derek, strong arms wrapped around him, the only human contact Derek received since he was in Beacon Hills. The first time the Sheriff had shown up and hugged him Derek had gone stock still, mind racing while somehow still sluggish. Unable to believe what was happened. Even more so when the Sheriff hadn’t commented on the empty house and when Kosh saw him for the first time he had gone belly up fast than he had with even Laura. Tail wagging so hard that his body flopped back and forth against the hardwood floors. 

   Within the five years since Derek returned to Beacon Hills, the person he had seen and interacted with the most was Sheriff Stilinski. Some days he would stay a little longer with Beatrice (call me Bee) Boyd at BumbleBee’s Diner, listening to her gushing about her children, she now had seven. But John was the only one to come to see Derek. He did it at least once a week. After the first three weeks back he had given Derek both his cell and home number and told him never to hesitate to call. John never failed to come over on the anniversaries of the fire and Laura’s death. When Derek had finally come about his senses that fateful day, he had called the Sheriff panicked and in need of someone, anyone he could trust and to keep him anchored through the whole ordeal. 

    And after the shock of the discovery of werewolves, the Sheriff had helped him dig the graves in the family cemetery and after it was all over held Derek while he cried. Not for a moment had John thought he was a murderer. He had written up the statement for him and bypassed the need for an autopsy. Had understood when Derek begged him not to take their bodies.

   After that Sheriff Stilinski always came during those anniversaries, worked in silence along with Derek to take care of the wolves before trecking into the forest to pay their respects to the dead. 

   This was why he cared so much for the man, wanted to protect him with all his might. When the Sheriff called him with something that might be supernatural Derek would come down to the station immediately, and even though none had been, he had still shadowed the man from a distance to make sure he was okay.

   “I have to make a trip down to LA to pick up a wolf that’s pregnant. But I still have no one to take care of the pack while I’m gone.” Derek knew what the Sheriff would say about this, the same thing he had been saying since day one. John just gave him an exasperated look since Derek had been saying for just as long that he would think about it. 

   “I’ve been telling you for years now, you need to hire a staff,” Just like Derek expected, John sighed but luckily for Derek’s self-esteem it wasn't filled with disappointment. One thing Derek loved most about the man was that no matter what Derek confessed to him he was never disappointed, always understanding and ready to help. And while the Sheriff had been telling him that for over five years now, Derek just couldn’t bring himself to admit that he might need help. It had been hard enough to let the Sheriff as close as he was and Derek couldn’t imagine the closeness he would need to form with someone who would be in the house every day. Someone who would leave their scent all around, who would by necessity become part of the pack. The thought was suffocating.

   “I trust no one but you with my pack…” Derek couldn’t help the slight blush that rose from chest to cheek. He had always thought of the Sheriff as a father figure since the man had kneeled in front of Laura and him and promised them everything would be all right as he held them and rocked them as they wept. His wife, Claudia taking them to their home and set them up in the guest room until they could gather themselves enough to check into a hotel. Something both Stilinski's insisted fiercely that they need not do.  She had sat at their bedside through the night, gently waking them from nightmares and working them through panic attacks. Their son had spent the week at his best friends house since Derek would often wake up in the middle of the night screaming. Since then John had been like a father, even when they moved to NYC, he and Claudia had called weekly to check up on them. When Claudia had fallen ill, they had thought they had more time. 

   They had planned to fly to California in two weeks (the time it would take for spring break to start, John had insisted they wait, so that they didn’t miss school). Laura wanted to offer her the bite, hoping that it would stick and save her. But a week and a half after she was diagnosed and hospitalized she had passed away. They were too late. They attended the funeral, somber and guilty about not insisting on leaving earlier. John didn’t blame them, didn’t know there was something they could have done to save his wife. They had stood on the outskirts of the crowd, not feeling welcome to intrude when they had failed to help. But as soon as John had seen them, he had pulled them close, hugged them close. All lavender tired, and the salty-sour tang of sorrow that felt like a punch to the face. Stiles had looked at them with red-rimmed eyes before latching onto Laura’s leg. She picked him up and let him curl into her side, face stuffed harshly against her neck. While John had stood between Laura and Derek clutching one to each side, laying his head onto Derek’s as they listened to the priest as an ornate rosewood casket was lowered into the earth.  

   And even though Derek knew the man cared for him, he knew the Sheriff didn’t think of him as a son. The Sheriff had his own child, and Derek was just the kid whose family had died, and the man just felt bad he couldn’t save them and couldn’t catch their killer. Derek was just his pity case. 

   John sighed, taking a sip of his burnt coffee, “I wish I could help you out myself, but I’m swamped at the moment. The beginning of summer break is always the worst. A bunch of teenagers find themselves with more time on their hands than they know what to do with, which always leads to trouble. But I think I know someone who could help.” 

   Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, if there was anyone’s opinion he could trust it was the Sheriff’s. “Okay.” The Sheriff had never done anything to make Derek wary. He smelt warm, and like home, his heart was steady, and his actions were sure. 

   “My son is a bit of a spaz, but he’s a good kid. Plus it will be good for him to get out of the house.” The Sheriff rarely talked about his son when they were together, just proud little statements in passing. Derek had only ever seen the kid at the funeral except for a small photo he kept in his wallet from when he was younger, two front teeth missing and covered in mud from head to toe. If he were anything like the Sheriff though Derek knew it would all work out.

   Derek didn’t think it over long before he was nodding to let the man know he agreed. 

   “When are you leaving?” John was already pulling out his phone, presumably to let his son know about the situation. Derek heard the tapping against the glass screen followed by the swooshing of a text being sent. He put his phone back into his pocket before looking up. 

   Derek thought for a second, he knew what he wanted to do, but he didn’t know if the sheriff’s son would be able to help on such short notice. His temper and instinct driving him to move. “I would, ideally, like to go tonight.” Derek wanted to give the new wolf as much time as possible before she gave birth so she could get comfortable with her new surroundings and pack. He also wanted to go tonight so that he could spend as little time away from his pack as possible instead of waiting for the morning as well as to get his nerves to calm down. 

   The Sheriff nodded before picking up his cell phone again to make a call to help hurry the teen along. It was quick, just a get down to the station before hanging up. They waited, engaging in small talk, Derek telling the older man about how horrible the woman had sounded and the Sheriff just grunting in agreement, shaking his head about how ridiculous the whole story was. Then they moved on to talking about getting more hands down at the sanctuary (mostly just the Sheriff talking), and about how he could get volunteers by giving out community service hours because it was either the sanctuary or the old folks home. And they both knew which most teens would pick.

   The Sheriff was always pitching these ideas at him. Things like turning the place into a real sanctuary and letting people come by to see the animals and to learn about them. It reminded him of Laura in more than one way. Her excitement and drive. And it also pleased him an unspeakable amount that the older man cared so much about how the wolves and Derek were doing. But unfortunately, since Derek had opened the sanctuary, he had been asked to take in seven wolves from Beacon Hill alone, from people who thought it would be cool to have a wolf-dog since there was a sanctuary in their hometown. It was the exact opposite of what Laura had wanted, so maybe he should put out pamphlets or something. Like in the diners and whatnot. An image on a large poster that just said  _ 'DON’T.'  _ popped up in his mind.

   The door behind Derek burst open, handle hitting the wall so hard that it seemed like it would leave a dent, interrupting his thoughts on pamphlet colors and fonts. A lanky boy with a buzz-cut came in, wheezing like he had run all the way here, and by the amount of sweat on him he probably had. The kid had his hands braced on his knees, bent over while trying to catch his breath. The smell that hit Derek was like a bulldozer, it was so close to being intoxicating, but he pushed it to the side, things like that didn’t matter.

   John spoke up, a laugh hidden between words, “Derek this is my son Stiles.” He was sporting a loving smile with a glint of amusement in his eyes as if this was an everyday occurrence, and for all Derek knew it could be.

   “The Jeep-” Stiles took in a gulping breath before carrying on, “wouldn’t start.” He then took the seat beside Derek, not paying him any mind as he continued to slow his frantically racing heart. Stiles was nothing like his father, his scent wasn’t warm and comforting, his heart wasn’t steady, and Derek could tell he was the type to jump into rash decisions head first. Derek wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, but he had to trust John. 

   The Sheriff stood up and rubbed his hand through his son’s non-existent hair before leaving the room. Coming back with two paper cups of water that the kid quickly downed, some water dribbling down his chin and the long line of his neck. Derek couldn’t pull his eyes away as if attracted by some magnetic force. 

   “Derek has a job for you.”

   He looked away from Stiles, blushing and staring down at the scratched up old wooden desk, scattered with papers and files atop it. Derek wondered what wood he would use to make a new desk for the man before remembering he didn’t own any tools. It was the first time in years he felt that itch in his palms to pick out wood and create. Maybe a darkly stained Tiger Maple.

   The young man seemed to notice that there was another person in the room, quickly turning towards Derek while offering out a hand with long slender fingers. Derek shook it and then rubbed the sweat that had transferred off on his jeans. 

   “Stiles Stilinski at your service.” His smile was broad and lopsided, mischief in its line. He was in a t-shirt that said  _ 'stud muffin'  _ and a bright red hoodie, worn blue jeans clinging to his muscular legs. Derek swallowed around a dry mouth.

   Derek couldn’t help the little huff that came out of him as he turned to the Sheriff as if to say,  _ ‘you can’t be serious,’ _ but the Sheriff just had a never-ending beaming smile on his face, eyes all crinkled up, looking ten years younger.

   “So what can I do for you?” The boy smelt like sweat and nerves, but there was something in it that made Derek’s heart skip a beat. It was… strange. It wasn’t the warmth he associated with trustworthy people. But it still had that indescribable note in it that spoke to something within him that said this could be family. And Stiles smelt of ozone and the tang of teenage hormones, sex, and morning dew. But under all that was the smell of jasmine and roasted cinnamon. It smelt… for lack of better words, incredible. Enticing. And now that Derek thought of it there were so many other words he could use, but they all seemed stuck on the tip of his tongue.

   Derek ignored it, he needed to. He had to. Pushed it down were kept all the dark parts of himself. “I need someone to come look after my pack while I go pick up a new member from Los Angeles.” He could think about these strange feelings later, maybe never, but right now he had a job he had to do.

   Recognition seemed to hit Stiles finally, at first it was that sad pity filled look everyone who knew of the fire gave him but then it turned into a smile that matched his father's, even if he looked like the male version of his mother, moles even mimicking hers. Derek only glared slightly, and it was more for show than anything else. “Oh, you’re Derek Hale, you, like, run the sanctuary. Cool. Yeah, I can do that.” His voice was surprisingly deep and slightly gravelly.

   “I need to leave tonight, so I will have to teach you what you will need to know today if you're okay with that?” Derek wanted to make sure he was clear about all of this. That this would happen now and that Stiles needed to listen because this needed to happen fast. Derek was too anxious to wait any longer, could feel the tight knot building just below and between his shoulder blades. He could feel his wolf crawling under his skin. John looked at him as if he could sense it.

   “Okay, I can work with that,” Stiles was nodding like a bobble-head, Derek hoped the young man could calm himself or else the pack would end up eating him alive. At this moment Derek wasn’t sure if it would be figuratively or literally.

   Derek thanked John before heading out of the building, Stiles at his heels, following like an excited puppy. They got into the car, the kid only briefly gawking at it before settling in. Derek didn’t like the way Stiles rubbed up against the leather of the Camaro, wanted to growl and tell him to stop, but it would be strange if he did. He might have trusted the Sheriff with his secret, but he didn’t know his son. All Derek knew for sure was that this kid was by no means an alpha and he doubted he would ever be in any sense of the word. Showed too much of his emotions in his actions. But he could admit that there was something about Stiles, something he liked. Maybe the smell but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. 

   The ride at first was peaceful, but the kid just had to break the silence, seemingly uncomfortable without the chatter. “So wolf-dogs…”

   “Wolves,” Derek corrected shortly, internally sighing at the conversation that was to come. Even with his anger still simmering he knew he couldn’t afford to get mad at the kid, cared too much for his father to risk that relationship by snapping at his child.

   Stiles squinted, Derek, seeing it out of the corner of his eye, before going on, “No, dude I am like a hundred percent sure you run a wolf-dog sanctuary. Where have you been all this time?” Derek hated how stupid Stiles made him feel in that moment. All condescension. He said it like he knew better than Derek when it came to this topic. When it was Derek, who lived it day in and out.

   “They are wolves, I treat them like wolves and so will you. Wolf-dog is a ridiculous term people use to cover up what they did.” Derek was already frustrated with how Stiles had talked to him add to the anger of what people did caused him to growl despite his desire to not ruin his relationship with the Sheriff. He just couldn’t help it. 

   The kid was now wiggling in his seat, anxiousness driving his body to move, leg jumping up and down uncontrollably, movements slightly rocking the car. “What do you mean, if you don’t mind me asking?” He was humble and sincere in his questioning. It helped ease Derek’s tension a little.

   Here it was, the thing that Derek hated explaining to people, he usually just refused to talk about it, but if the kid was going to understand how to care for his pack properly, he needed to understand this. “Wolf-hybrids are people’s way of legally owning a wolf. And because of what they do by breeding wild wolves and domestic dogs, they end up with a mentally unstable wolf. And then because people don’t realize what the animal needs they end up treating their animal just like you would a normal dog, and they lose control of their ‘little piece of the wild.’”

   Stiles was quiet for a while, seemingly deep in thought until he finally spoke. “I never thought of it that way…” Stiles was staring at him with his eyes wide and his lips parted. 

   Derek pulled into the driveway to the sanctuary, car shaking as it drove on gravel, “Most people don’t. That’s the problem.”

   The kid was silent again until they reached the house, shouting out as soon as they rounded the last bend, house finally in sight. “This place is fucking huge! Like so fucking huge! I thought the Whittemore house was huge, but they have, like, a shack compared to your mansion. Shit, that means me and my dad live in a cardboard box under the freeway. Like not even out in a nice empty field with some wildflowers.” Stiles babbled. They got out of the car, walking up to the front door, the kid still rambling on and on, Derek wasn't listening anymore, words turning into white noise.

  The kid stopped, taking a huge breath in before letting it out slowly after his first step into the lobby. “It’s so empty…” Derek knew this, he didn’t need Stiles pointing out the obvious. He knew his house looked brand new, never lived in even after all this time. Derek just couldn’t bring himself to add anything. This had been Laura’s dream home, and now she was gone Derek knew he could never make it into what she had wanted. Derek could never find that elusive shade of green she wanted to paint the living room.  _ ‘It’s a dark light green that doesn’t look like puke or pea soup.’ _ So he had never tried. Never even thought to. After she died all work towards the house jolted to a standstill. 

   “This is the lobby, there’s a phone right there. Carry it around and if anyone calls tell them to call back later or get them to leave their name, number, and a short message.” Derek picked the phone off the charger and hooked it to the waistband of his jeans. “There’s nothing on this side of the building except for that door which leads into two offices. One of them has files in it on all the wolves, but I doubt you will need to go in there for any reason.”

   “But dude, this place... it’s so empty? Like I am pretty sure this ‘lobby’ is bigger than my whole house, and I’ve only seen part of it.” Stiles motioned to the closed door behind what Laura had wanted to be a gift shop.  _    ‘Come on Der we can sell tacky tee-shirts with wolves on them and little wolf plushies.’ _

   “That was supposed to be the gift shop and auditorium.” Laura had hoped to teach people about what they were doing here, not to just show them. Have animal ambassadors they could take into schools. She had wanted to teach the world about the problems wolf-hybrids created. She had even drafted a piece of legislation (though messy and mostly on napkins from different diners) to stop this problem. Derek saved all those notes in a folder he kept upstairs in a box in the room that would have been Laura's.

    “You have an auditorium?!” Stiles walked over to the door, skipping steps in his haste, almost looking like a newborn fawn. “Wow, this is... another empty room. A huge room, but an empty one. I don’t know why I expected differently.”

    “Come on, we have work to do,” Derek all but snapped, the disappointment in Stiles' voice grated him the wrong way, and Stiles seem to realize this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Derek led him back into the entryway where there was another pair of swinging double doors that led to the wolf care center. They walked through the long, wide hallways until they reached the doors that led to the kitchen next to another pair that went out into the yard. Derek could see that the kid was itching to ask about all the doors, curiosity so thick he could almost hear his thoughts, but Derek just ignored the movements and went into the kitchen to start the day. He was already an hour and a half late for the usual schedule.

* * *

   The kitchen, also Stiles surprise, was in fact not empty. There was a large walk-in fridge next to what looked like a freight elevator. Stiles was sure it was, in fact, a freight elevator. There was also a smaller walk-in freezer and a huge stove in the middle of the kitchen island, twelve gas burners. 

   There were two dishwashers, a wraparound stainless steel countertop, and pantries that Stiles could only guess where full of who knows what. Stiles could admit that he was in awe of this kitchen. It was beautiful and just begging to be cooked in. Stiles wiped away the drool that was dribbling from the side of his mouth and turned to Derek who was leaning up against a wall glaring at him. He really needed to work on how he used his eyebrows. They were powerful things, and with great power comes great responsibility. 

   “The wolves haven’t had breakfast yet,” Derek stated like Stiles would magically know what he wanted him to do about it. Stiles gave him a look that said, _ 'Well buddy you better explain.'  _ But apparently, Stiles didn’t need to worry because Derek just huffed again before moving over to the island where a bulky binder was sitting. He had honestly missed it in his gawking first look.

   Stiles got closer to see what was in the binder as Derek opened it up. The binder was full of paper, and Stiles recognized it as a feeding chart. What surprised him was that it was all handwritten. “This is the feeding chart for the next two weeks.” He flipped to the page with today’s date at the top. “This is the feeding chart for today, nobody's currently on a special diet so it should be easy for you.”

   Derek went into the pantry, the open door revealing tens of bags of dried food, coming back with two stacks of silver bowls balanced on his palms and set them down on the island with ease. If Derek wanted Stiles to do that it would never happen. First off those bowls probably weighed more than he did and second, Stiles would never have that kind of grace. He had a hard time not tripping over his own feet most days. He was slightly envious. 

   “They have kibble for breakfast,” Derek stated as he lifted two forty pound bags like they were newborn babies, voice not wavering for a moment, before sitting those onto the counter too. “A cup and a half for each wolf.” Derek pulled out a large tub with a pump attached to the top. “And one pump of vitamin and oil mixture tossed into their food.”

   Derek scooped the kibble up with a measuring cup, putting it into a bowl and then adding the pump of oil before mixing it in with his bare hands. Stiles looked down at the man’s dirty hands, but Derek answered his question before he had time to ask it. “By touching their food, it makes it smell like me, so they know I have provided for them.” Stiles could roll with that. 

   It made sense since the alpha in a wolf pack was always the first to eat, their scent all over the food before anyone got to it. Stiles knew that he had seen a documentary about wolves. Well, he had seen about twelve since he went through a phase where they were his favorite animal. Which was now the red panda because really how could it be anything else? Red pandas were awesome.

   So they fixed breakfast. Stiles scooped the kibble before passing the bowl to Derek who would then mix in the oil and place the containers onto a large serving cart. They took about twenty minutes before they finished, washing their hands before heading into the elevator. Stiles noticed a key card was needed to use the elevator, Derek, seeming to notice Stiles staring, handed him an extra one before he even had to ask.

   The basement was filled with rows of large cages. Each cage had two areas, the front one was open, wood shaving covering the ground. While the back area was modeled after caves, an opening with the rest covered in a fake rock facade, blankets peaking out from each of them. Most were empty but the ones that weren’t had wolves at the front of their cages waiting impatiently for food. Stiles noticed some were wagging their tails while others looked predatory as they passed. Stiles could now see what Derek had meant about confused wolves. 

   They went around sliding the food into covered slots under the doors which the wolves couldn’t get into until a button was pressed. Derek had said it was to make sure that the pack dynamic wasn’t messed with by who got their food first. 

   “We will take them outside after this,” Derek said as he leaned up against the door that led to the backyard. “I'll need you to stay close until I tell you otherwise. Ignore them in the meantime.” 

   “So I can’t pet them?” Stiles was pretty bummed because they looked soft as hell and Stiles wanted nothing more than to pet their fluffy fur. Stiles was also kind of looking forward to cuddles and kisses, but he guessed if they were wolves then he shouldn’t go around expecting them to be just like man’s best friend.

   Derek tilted his head, considering the question for a moment, “Yes, but not when they're eating and only when they are relaxed.” He paused before finishing his thought, “That is if they let you.”

   Stiles got that, not all animals liked to be touched, his neighbor had a cat that hated being pet and one that loved it, it would even roll onto its back and mewl for belly rubs, so he understood. He nodded, leaning back against one of the empty cages. Derek told him he would go put the cart back into the elevator for later and then they both waited around for the wolves to finish eating in silence. Stiles just taking it all in. There was a lot of strange noises coming from all the different animals. Some were growling while others were making funny little eating noises. 

   When they finished, Derek explained to him how the rest of the day usually went, breakfast, let the dogs out to play, lunch, afternoon run, dinner, and then bedtime.

   Derek ordered Stiles to stand next to him and to not look down at them when the wolves came out. Derek flipped a button, all the cages opening and all the wolves rushing out to greet Derek. Honestly, Stiles was a tad spooked, not frightened but somewhat overwhelmed. Derek seemed to notice this as did the wolves. Some of their postures changed, going predatory, while others ignored him, but most of them just seem curious as to who he was. 

   Derek took a step in front of him, protecting him from the wolves that rushed up to Derek’s legs, all trying to get to him to lick at him. It made Stiles' heart flutter a little. Which he thought was strange. But he ignored it, walked outside with Derek as the wolves kept trying to get both of their attention. When they were out in the open most of the wolves scattered, running out and rolling in the fallen leaves. But there were a few that seemed glued to Derek’s hip. Derek was reaching down to greet any that stayed near him. 

   Stiles wanted to do that too, wanted to run his fingers through thick fur, but he was good at following orders (for the most part). Stiles ignored them all just like he had been told and after about thirty minutes of that, he was rewarded when Derek finally told him he could pet the wolves. There had been a few to stay by his side while all the rest were chasing each other through the woods. They seemed nice, Stiles reached down, slowly but confidently, to pet the closest one to him.

_    So fluffy.  _

   Stiles wanted to run his hand through this salt and pepper fur for the rest of his life. It still left that weird chalky feeling on his fingertips, but it didn’t stop him. The wolf turned to lick at his hands, rubbing his face all over Stiles’ pant leg while its tail waged. 

   “That’s Kosh,” Derek informed him as he sat down on the edge of the porch, a barely-there smile gracing his face. Stiles followed, automatically having a bunch of wolves rush up to get a better smell of him. “He was the first wolf at the sanctuary. In fact, he is the reason the sanctuary started.”

   Stiles watched as Kosh laid his head in Derek’s lap and Derek ran his fingers through the fur on his neck. They looked so comfortable. Like this was what they did every day. They probably did. Stiles wanted the wolves to be that comfortable with him. He wanted to know all their names and all their personalities. To know which foods they enjoyed and which games they liked.

   The first thing he wanted to know though was, “What does Kosh mean?” 

   Derek smiled the smallest smile possible before looking over at Stiles, and Stiles wanted to look at it for the rest of his life. But there was also something else that Stiles saw, this little glimmer of sadness, his eyes going the slightest bit watery. “Laura said it meant troublemaker, but I think she just said some random syllables together.” Derek looked a bit sad for a few seconds before Kosh licked at his chin, making Derek smile again. It was nice. 

   Stiles asked for all the wolves names that were close to them. Accalia, Phantom, Sammy, and Kosh were the only wolves currently around them. Stiles petting them all and memorize their markings so he could tell them apart later on. 

   The rest of the day went on, Derek telling him all sorts of things about wolf-hybrids. Pointing out different wolves as they played about and explained to him how the amount of actual wolf one had in them affected how they acted. About the classifications for high-content, medium-content, and low-content. Along with telling Stiles which dog breeds were the most popular mixes for wolf-hybrids. Husky and german shepherd to make sure they still look like actual wolves. Though the sanctuary was home to some strange combinations too, like the poodle-wolf (the Woodle, as Stiles decided it must be named), the chow chow-wolf (the Wow Wow) and lastly the great dane-wolf (the Great Wolf, aka the Dude-Why?).

   Derek ordered them Chinese for lunch which was delicious. Stiles really loved Chinese takeout. He loved all takeout since it wasn’t something he had at home often. And there was something magical about eating restaurant food in the comfort of your own house out of styrofoam boxes. Well, maybe it didn’t count since he and Derek were sitting in an empty lobby. 

   Stiles wasn’t sure how someone could live like this. All alone in this giant house. Stiles just hoped that where the actual home began that it at least had some furniture, maybe even a proper bed. But Stiles wasn’t sure it would. It was sad, and it made Stiles' heart ache for this obviously lonely man.

   They finish up their lunch, preparing salmon for the wolves’ meal. Feeding them was fun. To throw food up in the air for the wolves to catch. It was a great time, they then went for a run through one of the fenced off sections. It was a vast area and by the time they were half-way through the run Stiles was utterly out of breath, panting and sweaty. Shirt sticking to his skin along with his skinny jeans.

   It was wonderful. The best day Stiles had experienced in a long time. He was full, content, worn out, and surrounded by fluffy animals. Stiles wanted to do this every day for the rest of his life. He had never felt so calm before.

   Dinner was quiet, raw red meat and Indian. 

   They put all the wolves back into their cages. They all whined as Derek and Stiles got back into the elevator to go up to the main floor. The kitchen was a mess, and without even thinking about it Stiles automatically started cleaning. Kitchens were somewhere Stiles had always felt most comfortable.

   He could remember sitting in the kitchen as a child, watching his mother dance around, barefoot with a frilly apron around her waist. Her nimble fingers flipping through cookbook after cookbook, looking for the perfect recipe for dinner. When she would excitedly shout, “That looks delicious,” Stiles knew it was his time to get up and help. He would bring her ingredients, stir, measure, and help with almost everything but cutting things up. She would hold him on her hip as she guided his hand in mixing the meal.  

   The way his father would smile whenever he got home from a long day of work with a homemade meal already at the table was the one thing Stiles remembered most about his early childhood. Along with the way his mother would always kiss Stiles’ forehead and say he did way more of the work than he had actually done. Always giving him the credit. 

   Stiles wished for those days to return desperately. 

   So he cooked, even right after his mother’s death, it was the only thing that made him feel close to her. On his bad days, he would stay in the kitchen for hours, cleaning every inch until his fingers were numb and raw and there was nothing else to do, and then he would clean some more. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he would sleep on the cold tiled floor, curled into a ball thinking of the never-ending smell of fresh bread. The soothing sound of soft rock playing over the radio and the melody of dancing feet slapping against the floor. 

   He and his father never talked about this. They both knew why. Just like Stiles knew his father would sometimes stand in front of her closet, gently caressing the clothes that had long lost their scent of warm cinnamon and rosemary. They didn’t talk about this.

   So that's why when Stiles had first seen the kitchen at the sanctuary his heart had skipped a few beats. It was the kind of kitchen his mother would have loved, probably drooled over at the thought of cooking in. Even if it was too clinical to feel homey. She would have brought in cookbooks, butter yellow drapes, and racks of expensive, exotic spices. Because of all this Stiles couldn’t just leave it a mess. 

   Derek didn’t try to stop him just stood off to the side and let him do as he wished.

   Stiles finally realized the time and said goodbye to Derek, who gave him an odd look, but Stiles didn’t think much of it, still too caught up in the thoughts of the day and the idea of his mother cooking again. Derek after-all was a weird dude. Stiles made his way back to the front of the lobby, opening one of the front doors and breathing in the night air, the scent of decaying leaves and pine strong. It wasn’t until he looked out at the parking lot that he understood the look Derek had given him. That’s right, Roscoe broke down. Stiles sighed before turning around to go ask Derek for a ride back to his house, but Derek was already standing in the doorway, keys in hand.

   Stiles couldn’t help jumping about a foot in the air in fright. “Warn a dude next time, don’t just-just creep up behind them!” Derek nodded, walking out to the Camaro without saying another word. He must be tired, Stiles couldn't blame him as he was in a similar state. 

   The drive was quiet, Stiles kept fidgeting against the leather, the seat just wasn’t in the correct position for him to get comfortable. He reached down and adjusted it, getting it perfect when they pulled into his driveway. 

   “Here is the key to the front and back doors and you already have the key card to the elevator. Just don’t lose them. The wolves start their day around seven in the morning, but they can wait until eight.” Something in Derek’s voice was strained. Stiles wasn’t sure why but he thanked the man for the ride and food before hopping out of the car and walking up to his front door. 

   Derek waited until Stiles was inside before driving off and all Stiles wanted to say was,  _ 'I’m not going to get lost on my way to my front door.' _ But he didn’t. 

   It would still be another few hours before his father got home, so Stiles went into the kitchen to cook him something. Stir fry with tofu sounded good. 

   And if Stiles stayed up most of the night doing research about wolf-hybrids, it wasn’t because he wanted to work at the sanctuary or anything, and it was definitely not because Derek had let him babble all day long without telling him to shut up once. No, it was because he was honestly interested in the subject. 

   Well, maybe a little of the other two things as well.


End file.
